Authors: Beverly Lewis
The Crossroad (21 page)
“I can see why.”
“Jah, it’s a gut place to hide a postcard, right?” Again, they laughed together, and his chuckle was ever so joyful.
Their talk soon turned to Esther and Levi. “Wonderful people,” Philip remarked. “Any chance they might return to the Lancaster area?”
“Funny you ask, ’cause I’ve been wishin’ they’d come back. But I think it’s out of the question. They’ve got the land they’ve always wanted in Holmes County,” she explained. “And they waited an awful long time for it.” She went on to say that one of her heart’s desires was to farm again. “It goes without sayin’ that we Amish have a cravin’ for the soil.” Unexpectedly, she thought of a comment her Jacob had often made—that he was born with dirt under his fingernails.
Philip said, “My grandpap on my father’s side owned a large amount of acreage in southern Vermont, near the Battenkill River—the most beautiful place on earth, I thought as a boy. Grandpap built a summer cottage there, surrounded by trees and vegetable gardens. Whenever I go there, even now, it’s a little foretaste of heaven. So I think I know what you mean.”
Rachel had to smile at his comment. Something else they had in common, it seemed. “I don’t know why, but I believe someday Annie and I will work the land again. But only the dear Lord knows how that’s gonna come about.”
“Trusting God for His plan isn’t easy, is it?”
A little surprised at his question, she answered softly, “Lavina says to ‘wait patiently for Him,’ and believe me, I’m learnin’ to do just that. Every day of my life since I lost half of my family at the Crossroad.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.”
“You mustn’t feel sorry for me,” she was quick to say. “I don’t seek pity.”
“You’ve been courageous, Rachel.”
His voice was tender just now, and she wished for all the world she could have one glimpse of his face. Surely he was a handsome man. Annie had said as much. Told her repeatedly, in fact.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she said, eager to change the subject, get the focus off herself. “And if ya think I’m pryin’, just say so, but I’m interested in hearing ’bout your preparations for the ministry. Adele mentioned to Lavina and me that you felt the Lord callin’ you.”
“I believe He is, but that’s where trust comes in.” Philip sighed, taking his time. “I’m praying daily for guidance.”
“Does that mean you’re not so happy with your writing job? At the magazine?”
“That may be too long a story for this particular night. Perhaps, though, we could have dinner together again before I leave?”
He was asking her to go with him somewhere yet again! Oh, she wanted to say jah without a bit of hesitation but knew it was best not to. “I don’t know. I believe I oughta concentrate on first things first—the Crossroad … tomorrow.”
Philip was quiet for the longest time, and she worried that she’d offended him. When he spoke, his words were gentle, yet somewhat disquieting.
“Your vision is more important than anything, Rachel. I wouldn’t think of distracting you from that.”
“No … no, I understand. Honest, I do.”
“After the Crossroad, we can decide about having dinner or not.”
She felt helpless to give a worthwhile answer, so she kept her peace. Best not to lead him on, anyways. What made her think that a man like Philip would ever be content for long with a friend with such obvious … limitations?
In the middle of the night, Susanna awoke from a hair-raisin’ dream. She sat straight up in bed, wiping the perspiration from her brow, attempting to catch her breath, which had been perty near snuffed out in the middle of all the nightmarish confusion. She’d dreamt the most peculiar thing, and its murky undercurrent was still pulling at her, even in her wakefulness. Blue Johnny and the newly deceased bishop, Seth Fisher, had been talkin’ to her. The bishop was sending a warning from the grave, and Blue Johnny was trying to block it, rebuffing every word Seth Fisher was shouting out. There was screamin’ and rantin’—all comin’ from an angry Blue Johnny—worse than any nightmare she could’ve ever imagined.
She’d heard folks say that there was sometimes a meaning in a dream like this, but she daresn’t think such a thing. No, ’cause she had a powerful-strong feelin’ she knew just what the meaning was. Jah, she did. The bishop
had
found salvation, full and free—’least in the dream, he had—just like Lavina was spreading ’round amongst the People, but Blue Johnny was madder’n a hornet ’bout it. That’s why he’d kept a-hollerin’ to drown out the things the bishop was tryin’ to say.
For the third time that night, Susanna crept out from under the bed quilts. This time she fell to her knees, clasping her hands in fervent prayer. “Lord God Almighty,” she began, “if any of what I’ve read in the Bible tonight concerns me and the sins of my fathers, if any of it oughta be confessed and renounced, as my daughter keeps sayin’, well then, O Most High, I ask you to show me what to do. Amen.”
She s’posed it was all right to talk that way to the Lord God heavenly Father, ’specially if no one was ’round listenin’ in on important things a body had to say.
Rachel felt sure she could trust her feelings for Philip, that she knew who he was deep inside, even after only a few visits with him. She also thought she understood what made him tick, so to speak, and that he was trustworthy as the day was long. Why else would she have allowed herself to be alone with an outsider on two separate occasions? Yet she could not grasp a sound reason why they had been brought together. Did God intend them to be more than accidental friends?
Rachel knew she’d best cast the matter into God’s hands. Let Him work things out. So she lay awake long after talking to the Lord ’bout Philip Bradley and all that had taken place this Christmas Day. She thought ’bout John Lapp wantin’ a bride younger than himself to bear him more children. And she sighed into the night, wonderin’ what it would be like to be married again to someone of God’s choosing. To someone as dear to her as the handsome blond husband she’d married at eighteen.
It was nigh unto impossible to think of the cocksure smithy that way. And as much as she liked Philip, she was ever so hesitant to consider an Englischer when it came to marriage. Yet beneath his “fancy” layers—speech patterns, intellect, and his perception of the world—she thought she saw glimmers of yearning. A longing for a more simple life. She saw it in the questions he asked, the way he drew her out. Besides all that, his patience seemed to have no end. And he had the ability to reassure her. She truly liked him for everything that set him apart from John Lapp. He was the sort of man her family would have smiled on had he been born into the Amish community—the thoughtful farm boy down Beechdale Road or Maple Avenue, harvestin’ corn and baling hay along with his pop and brothers.
Oh, she knew his spirit, knew it through and through. Jah, with Philip she could see ahead to the future, her confidence being handed over to her, the doors of timidity cracking open and swinging wide at long last. Sun-filled days, a spread of land burstin’ with crops, ponds a-plenty, and woodlands to run through at dawn. The Lord’s name to be praised together with a man set on servin’ Him, too. These were the things she wanted most out of life. Nay,
needed
.
But would Philip have understood these late-night thoughts of hers had she been able to put them into words?
Prob’ly not
. Still, she knew, deep within her spirit, Philip Bradley was a God-fearing man, full of faith. And he was ever so kind and playful with Annie. A right gut father he’d make! But would she be willing to go “fancy” for him?
Before she drifted off to sleep, she thought again ’bout what Philip had shared with her—therapeutic ideas, grief groups, and whatnot. All the information he had so kindly brought for her to consider. Yet she felt the Lord was prompting her to have the church elders pray over her, first and foremost. Emotional healing had been hanging in the balance far too long; her ability to see was bound up in it. She was ever so sure of that. It was time she mustered up the courage to follow through with biblical teaching, found in the book of James.
Come tomorrow, after the preachin’ service, she would ask to be anointed with oil in the name of the Lord Jesus.
The tiny gap, where Annie’s front baby tooth had once been, caught Philip’s attention as he helped the young girl and her mother into his car the next morning. He had offered to drive them to church during the course of breakfast, much to the unspoken astonishment of Rachel’s parents. It seemed they, too, had church plans. But Susanna was quick to make the distinction between what she viewed as the wayward Beachy Amish and the Old Order. “
We
haven’t forsaken the assembly and tradition of our forefathers,” she’d said, eyes flashing. “We attend
house
church.”
“Whose turn is it to have preachin’, then?” Rachel asked, diverting the subject almost effortlessly. Or so it seemed.
“Thomas and Mary Beiler,” Susanna replied, then turning to Philip, she kindly explained. “That’s my oldest living sister and her husband.”
“And Thomas ain’t no doubter, neither,” Benjamin piped up, bringing the conflict back into play. He was dressed for the day, wearing a pressed white shirt, tan suspenders, black broadfall trousers, and vest—“for gut” clothes—or so he’d said when first Philip was seated at the dining room table.
“Thomas is an upstanding Amishman,” Susanna added, and it almost seemed as though they were united in an attempt to make a point. For Rachel’s sake?
Rachel, who was sipping her coffee, did not so much as crack a smile. Philip assumed she was contemplating her visit to the Crossroad, this long-awaited day of days. Observing her more closely, he saw that she was pensive, even prayerful. He reached for his juice glass, recalling how, last evening, his hand had innocently guided hers to the water glass. Their first dinner alone. No matter what happened, he would fondly remember that Christmas night.
Singing from the hymnbook at the Beachy Amish Church was somewhat similar to his own church, with the exception of the fact that each hymn was sung without musical accompaniment. Even so, Philip, who shared the hymnal with Levi Glick, found the harmonious, full sound of human voices entirely refreshing. He was glad, too, that Levi and his wife had chosen this house of worship today. A visitor in “secular” attire, he might have felt even more conspicuous sitting with the Plain men in their conservative dark coats and trousers had it not been for Levi, who welcomed him with a warm smile and friendly manners, putting Philip completely at ease.
In the middle of “O, For a Thousand Tongues,” he happened to glimpse Rachel and Annie, sitting toward the front with an older woman, who he assumed was Lavina Troyer, as well as Esther Glick and her two little girls. All the women and young children sat on the left side of the church aisle, the women in modest cape dresses—blues, purples, and greens—and white prayer veilings, as was their custom.
Verse five of the hymn was especially meaningful as he blended his voice joyfully with Levi’s and the men around him.
Hear Him, ye deaf; His praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior, come;
And leap, ye lame, for joy
.
Philip contemplated Rachel’s intended trip to the Crossroad, as she called it. During his short stay in Bird-in-Hand, he had become familiar with the junction of North Ronks Road and Route 340. In fact, on several occasions he had passed through on the main highway, noticing a line-up of horses and buggies at the red light. He’d thought it a wise and sensible move, installing a traffic light at that particular intersection. But to think that Rachel and her young family had experienced a fatal accident there was more than he cared to ponder. No wonder Rachel and Annie had been traumatized these many months. No wonder it had taken so long for the young widow to bring herself to this day. What courage—with God’s help—she would have to muster to revisit the scene of the accident, sight or no, that had so altered her life! He would offer whatever support he could, though his guess was that Levi and Esther would be the key proponents. Yet he was going along. Had actually volunteered. And Rachel seemed altogether pleased.
During the last hymn, Rachel felt her faith rise up powerful-strong.
Ye blind, behold your Savior, come …
She could scarcely wait for the church elders to pray for her. This was her day of deliverance. She believed it with all her might!
The pastor took his place behind a simple wooden pulpit immediately following the passing of the offering plate. There was no special Christmas music, no wreaths or decorations. Plain and off-white, the walls were devoid of crosses or pictures of Christ. A single small chandelier hung in the center of the aisle, offering sufficient light. The windows were clear—no stained glass here.
A gentle rustle of pages turning came as soon as the minister announced his sermon text. Philip, too, located the Scripture passage, a bit surprised that its focus was divine healing. He wondered if perhaps Rachel had had recent pastoral counsel, inspiring such a sermon topic the day after Christmas. Or was it that the pastor knew of Rachel’s plan to visit the Crossroad this day?
He found himself paying close attention, yet, at the same time, wanting to be in an attitude of prayer. Philip concentrated on God’s great mercy in sending Jesus as divine provision for the healing of mankind—accomplished by the beating Christ suffered prior to His death on the cross. Praying silently, he believed that this would indeed be Rachel’s day of restoration.
Along with Rachel, several other church members met the elders and pastor in the altar area after the service. Philip stood in the back of the sanctuary with Levi and his four children, waiting without speaking for both Rachel and Esther to join them.
The elders anointed Rachel with oil, and Philip bowed his head, as well.
Lord Jesus, please give your child the desire of her heart … today, if it be your will
, he prayed silently.
After the elders’ prayers, Rachel fully expected to be able to see, but when her sight did not return immediately, she felt she wanted to go straight to the Crossroad, postponing the noon meal “for just a short time,” she told Esther and Levi in the church parking lot. “Would it be all right if we went now?”
Graciously, Lavina Troyer offered to stay at the church with the children, including Annie. Levi agreed to drive his in-laws’ horse and buggy over to North Ronks Road and down to the Crossroad. As planned, Esther and Philip went along. Rachel’s cousin guided her carefully across the driveway and into the enclosed carriage.
It was Levi who suggested that she sit in the second seat with Philip, behind him and Esther. She was taken aback by his insistence, yet she didn’t question, doing as he requested. Surely, Levi wasn’t in favor of encouraging her friendship with an outsider. Surely, he had her best interest at heart—sitting in the second seat was a way to cushion her a bit from the stark realities, maybe. From the return of memories that surely lay ahead.
By agreeing to go on this ride, Philip realized he was putting himself at risk, as documented in recent newspapers. Due to increased population and drivers impatient with slow-moving carriages on busy thorough-fares, more and more wrecks were occurring in Lancaster County. So here he sat, in a dilapidated old buggy, next to an attractive young woman who was determined to see her way past the pain. Beyond the agony of the Crossroad.
Levi, their experienced driver—all the way from Ohio for Christmas—tapped the reins gently, and the horse pulled the carriage forward, out of the church parking lot and onto a two-lane road. If someone had told Philip—his sister, for instance—that he would spend the day after Christmas in such a peculiar manner, he would not have believed it. Yet he had volunteered only yesterday to go along on this, Rachel’s journey to healing. The fact that he was here, hoping for the very best—praying, too—meant that he must care more than he had let on to anyone. Most of all, himself.
Susanna waited till Rosie Fisher was alone to approach her ’bout what was on her mind. She offered her sympathy, then said, “Nobody seems to know, for sure and for certain, ’cept maybe Lavina, so I’ll just up and ask ya. What happened the other day … at your place?”
“Well,
I
know ’cause I was there, but I don’t rightly understand what happened, not really,” Rosemary told her after Preachin’ service at the Beilers’. “All’s I know is Seth whispered to me that he wanted to hear what Lavina Troyer had to say. He didn’t want me or anyone else to keep her from speakin’ whatever was on her heart. And he said something else to me, too.”
“What’s that?” Susanna was all ears.
“Seth said the Lord God had prepared his heart for her visit.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Susanna said, heading with Rosemary to the kitchen to help set up for the common meal. “If I hadn’t heard it from you, I’d hafta say I wouldn’t believe it a’tall.”
The elderly woman nodded, her eyes shining. “I wisht you could’ve been there to see it for yourself. My husband’s face was just a-glowin’.”
“Where was Benjamin during all this?” She had to ask. Had to know what on earth went on that her husband hadn’t witnessed any of what Rosemary was a-sayin’. Or wanted to forget, maybe.
“I daresay, if Ben didn’t up and leave the room like a scared ’possum.”
“Why, do ya think?”
“Well, a kind of glory come in and filled up the place.”
Susanna didn’t know what to make of this. “A
glory
, you say?”
“Jah, come right in and sent the evil a-spinnin’ out.”
“Evil?”
“Twistin’ and a-turnin’ right out of Seth. I saw it with my own eyes. He coughed and sneezed nigh unto thirty times.”
“But what
evil
?” Susanna insisted.
“Them curses … all the years of hexin’ and enchantments, that’s what. My Seth got clear free of the powwowin’, too, surprisin’ as that might seem.”
Susanna gasped. “What did you say?”
“The ‘knowin’ gifts’ got prayed right out of him by your husband’s shunned cousin. It was mighty surprisin’.”
Susanna thought on that. Lavina castin’ out wickedness? Why did Bishop Seth need such a deliverance as that? What was
wrong
with powwowing? The more she mulled over what Rosemary had just said, the more one certain Scripture came to mind.
Our fathers have sinned, and are not; and we have borne their iniquities
.
Was that verse the explanation for the bishop’s need? Could it be? Well, now that she thought on it, she wished she
had
been on hand—at Seth Fisher’s bedside—that day. She would’ve been downright interested to see what shunned Lavina had witnessed with her simple eyes and childlike understandin’.
She decided she’d be listenin’ to Esther’s tape yet again.